


Snowflakes

by Defira



Series: Tarnished Silver [4]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angry Sex, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-30
Updated: 2011-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-25 02:17:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defira/pseuds/Defira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Act II. The continuation of Folly, set one month later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowflakes

It was the middle of Solace, and summer had wrapped itself over Kirkwall like a clinging lover, immensely unwanted and infinitely frustrating as the heat wave wore on day after day. The sun seeped into the clay and stone that made up the harbour city, holding onto the warmth all through the night and denying them all reprieve from the unending heat. Even at the onset of the day, it was warm enough for the air itself to shimmer and dance, and up in the Chantry the Sisters stopped putting out candles at the feet of Andraste, because they melted into a sea of red wax before the morning service was even halfway through.

Only the very foolish or very desperate stayed out of doors come lunchtime, when the sun bore down on the city as if with malicious intent. And climbing the innumerable stairs from the harbour all the way to Hightown? Nigh on impossible, except after the fall of night. It might not have been so bad, had they had a breeze sweep in off the ocean and rescue them all from the endless, insufferable heat. But even the very air seemed to stagnate and languish, as if it too could not find the energy to move under the influence of the Solace sun.

And so the city began to fester, trapped in the sweltering heat that lingered for a few days, and then a week, and then two… The smell was intolerable, the rancid stink of salt and tar and sweat and fish, all the normal smells one would expect from a harbour city magnified tenfold.

The tunnels beneath the city became death traps, the dark, tight spaces trapping the heat and slowly building it to levels that would be harmful to a healthy Marcher; to the ragged, malnourished refugees that packed the narrow shafts, it was deadly. The secret clinic in Darktown was inundated with the dehydrated, the sunburnt and those suffering heatstroke as the weather took its toll. The city guard had dropped back on their patrols, after a significant number of guardsmen began to pass out in the heat. The number of merchants out on show dwindled, until only the very essentials remained in both the Hightown market and the Lowtown bazaar. Even those enterprising swindlers who had vowed to make a quick coin off the anomalous weather, their kind ever present in any city the world over, had retreated to the shade, slinking away with their tails between their legs at their failure and their complete discomfort.

It was not uncommon to see families in Lowtown sitting up on the roofs of the tenements at night, rather than sitting indoors where the air seemed determined to cook them. Tents were pitched in communal courtyards, often never fancier than a linen sheet strung across a washing line. There were rumours that a few houses up in Hightown had followed suite, and there was even a party held on the roof of the Hawke estate, to the dismay of the neighbours.

It was utterly awful.

And it was on the heels of this mess that Cullen found himself Commander-in-lieu of the Gallows. Meredith had departed for the city proper several days ago, and true she was easily within reach if something were to go wrong, but still… his first command. If it wasn’t for the obnoxious heat he probably would have been unable to stop himself from dancing gleefully on the spot the moment she’d left. He had nothing but respect for his superior, but to be in control of the Gallows, an entire Circle Tower, was intoxicatingly powerful.

Now he just had to hope that nothing went terribly wrong and ruined his first chance to prove himself worthy of a full command. Although in that regards, the heat was probably helping. Mages and Templar alike were far too uncomfortable and lethargic for even a peep of dissent to filter back to him.

Meredith, for her part, had gone to Kirkwall at the behest of Elthina with the very best of Gallows’ healers and primal mages, to help prevent the situation in the city from devolving into a catastrophe. From the reports he received every morning, their efforts appeared to be making headway into the number of people succumbing to the heat; the anonymous reports he got from Darktown were quick to mention that the little clinic tucked away in the back passages was now only struggling with large numbers of the desperate and the needy, rather than plague-like proportions of the sick they had been swarmed with previously. It didn’t help that the Grey Warden apostate- his mouth twisted unhappily at the thought of that arrogant upstart- didn’t charge for his services, so there were still plenty who preferred his help over that of the Chantry approved clinic being run up in Hightown.

So here they were- he in charge of the Gallows, Meredith on a humanitarian mission to save the city from the heat wave, and everyone in between suffering as the humidity crept higher with each passing day.

It was mid-afternoon, and the hallways were relatively silent. There were Templars stationed around the place, to be sure- he’d be stupid not to assume that some reckless mage would attempt something the moment they let their guard down- but there was no familiar clink of armour against stone, no crunch of steel plate as his brothers in arms made their rounds. No one was wearing their full suits at the moment; the heat had turned them into portable ovens, and to stay encased in that armour for any long period of time had become a death sentence. The Templars now made their way through the Gallows with nothing more to protect them from demons except their quick wits and training and the sturdiest leather armour they could dig out of storage in a hurry. It didn’t look anywhere near as intimidating, and he almost didn’t recognise some men outside of their normal uniform. And admittedly, the leather was still vastly uncomfortable, but it was a damned fine improvement on the traditional plate armour.

The window to his office was wide open as he sat at the desk and attempted to concentrate on the papers before him. Not that it did much good, for the air in the room was just as hot as the air outside the window, and with no breeze to stir it away it was really just for show. Or perhaps for the vain hope that maybe, just _maybe_ , a hint of relief might drift past the sill if he just gave it more time.

He hadn’t even bothered with the leather armour today, fed up with the heat and inundated with enough paperwork to have him buried for days. The Gallows had been so quiet as of late that there was almost no need for him to leave the office- which worked in his favour, given how much he had to get through without an assistant of his own. Elsa had accompanied Meredith, and he didn’t feel comfortable having one of the other Tranquil follow him about mutely.

There were requisition forms to go over and budget for, leave requests from his men that needed approving and rejecting, reports to read and file, rosters to plan and post in the commons; there was very little in the way of mage maintenance needed, which was a relief. Orsino had made the recommendation that all Harrowings be postponed until the heat wave had passed, lest someone go into the trial at anything other than their peak. Cullen was only too happy to agree with the First Enchanter on that point- he had no energy to deal with abominations and demons in this weather. Tempers had frayed a little and a few clashes had been inevitable, but the cells below the Gallows were far from full.

All in all, it had been a fairly uneventful few days. Which was just fine by him.

He was working quietly in his office when that all changed. He realised belatedly that he’d been staring at the same list of provisions requested by the kitchen staff for well over five minutes now without taking any of the damned thing in. With a sigh, he ran his hand over his forehead to brush away the sweat before it dripped and made the ink run again and scrawled his signature across the bottom. Throwing it on the pile of completed papers, his lips twisted into a weary smile at the thought that, knowing his luck, he’d just signed off on the one form that asked for wild boar and lobster. Ah, well, the Chantry clinic would be making a quiet profit at the expense of the citizens of Kirkwall, selling ice and cooling salves and frosted water. Undoubtedly they’d get their cut of the takings, so if any lobsters turned up in the mess hall soon, he’d have to hope Meredith simply rolled her eyes.

He shifted in the chair, relaxing when he felt the cool air at his back from the open window. It took him several minutes to realise that something felt amiss, and only then did the fact that he was _cooler_ begin to register with him.

At that moment he realised as well that it was not so quiet anymore. From somewhere distant he heard a child shriek, not from fear but from joy, and it was followed by a male shout. He sat up a little straighter in his chair. The noises began to build, shouting and yelling and then the sound of footsteps racing past his room, multiple sets of feet in fact.

He climbed to his feet and turned to reach for his leather jerkin lying on a side table- and froze. The window behind him was still open, but the view was gone. Instead, all he could see was white, swirling mist; he reached a hand into it and his fingers disappeared from sight before his hand was even enveloped to the wrist. It was thick and cold, like someone had snatched a cloud down from the gloomy skies over southern Ferelden and dragged it all the way back to Kirkwall.

The yelling and the shouting had grown louder, and he could tell there were people in the courtyard below him. He could hear children squealing in delight, and he could hear laughter from more than a few adults, and he could hear men arguing, though he couldn’t quite make out their words through the fog that had taken over his window.

And he could feel the tell-tale spark of magic in use, the air nearly crackling with the power at play and he clenched his jaw firmly as it wreaked havoc with the lyrium in his veins.

More pounding footsteps, and this time they stopped at his door; the Templar burst into his room without bothering to knock, panting for air as he called out “Knight Captain! Ser, we need your…” His words trailed off as he spotted Cullen standing by the open, mist filled window with eyebrows raised. “Oh. I see you’re already aware of the situation.”

“Not quite,” Cullen said dryly, stopping to snatch up the jerkin and his sword belt. He pulled both on quickly as he gestured to the Templar to continue. “Care to fill me in?”

The knight saluted promptly, fist clenched over his heart. “Ser. Some of the mages have taken it upon themselves to teach the young apprentices high level primal spells, well beyond their capabilities. It seems to have had a rather considerable backlash… although I can’t help but feel that was the intention of the senior mages in the first place.”

Cullen frowned. “Their intention? What in the name of-”

He was interrupted by a wet splat, and the sound of all the papers carefully stacked on his desk rustling as they slowly cascaded to the ground. He turned around with a sigh and couldn’t help but gape at the sight of his afternoon’s careful work destroyed by- of all things- a snowball.

“That,” he said slowly, almost unable to comprehend what he was about to say, “is a snowball.”

The knight behind him shifted uneasily. “Yes, Captain, it is.”

Cullen blinked, trying to wrap his head around the fact that despite the heat assailing him, there was most definitely a snowball on his desk. Melting rather quickly too. “I take it from your tone that there are more of these.” It wasn’t a question.

“Ser, the apprentices were attempting to cast a blizzard, at the prompting of some of the senior mages. It hasn’t hurt anyone yet, but it’s spreading quickly through the keep.”

“The blasted thing is _indoors?_ ” He was already hurrying for the door, stalking briskly down the corridor towards the damned courtyard. The creeping mist was indeed indoors, and as he walked he felt the soft kiss of snowflakes against his cheeks. “How far does it go?”

“Hard to say, Captain. We haven’t been able to catch all of the children yet, and they’re still casting as they run. It hasn’t reached above the sixth floor yet, and it doesn’t go into the cellars.”

 _Sweet blood of the prophet._ “Well, why are you just standing here, man? Get after them and catch them!”

He left the younger Templar stammering his apologies as he stalked down the hall towards the courtyard. From up ahead he could hear the delighted squeals and shrieks of the children, and the sounds of a heated argument was growing clearer.

“… end this _appalling_ mockery right now! You would instil a _complete_ disregard for authority in these children and it will only end in their death in the Harrowing or their Tranquility. Is that what you _want_ , First Enchanter?”

Cullen stepped out into the misty yard just as Orsino said wryly “I sincerely doubt that conjuring up a little snow to frolic in on a hot day is going to be the death of my younglings, Ser Mettin. Now, why don’t you run along and play yourself? You certainly sound like you need to cool down.”

“I will _not_ be spoken to in such a manner! Rein in your brats, Enchanter, or I will-”

“You will do _nothing_ , Ser Mettin,” Cullen said firmly, heads spinning to face him as he made himself heard. The yard was heaped with snow, some of the drifts coming to above his knees. As he waded through the snow towards them- which seemed to be melting as fast as it was being conjured, by the sloshing, cold water that seeped into his boots immediately- he took a moment to look around the courtyard. The sky was hidden, the pale dry blue swamped by the swirling, ethereal mists that the children had conjured. Snow was still drifting down from above, the minute flakes at odds with the great piles of powder around the edges of the walls. There were a number of mages gathered about, the youngest apprentices rolling about gleefully in the snow piles, while a couple of the teenaged ones threw projectiles at each other aided by magic. That explained the snowball that had made it all the way to his office desk.

Orsino was sitting comfortably on one of the many stone benches around the yard, arms hooked over the back and a casual smirk on his face as he pointedly ignored Ser Mettin. Senior Enchanter Watts, the head of the Entropy school, was keeping a ball of snow elevated above his palm to the delight of several apprentices. Enchanter Nalia and Enchanter Rowan were apparently captains of competing sides in an intense snow ball battle.

And he could see Bethany, laughing as she showed two little girls how to make snow dragons, lying back in the fluffy white powder and brushing her arms out from side to side to mimic wings. When she sat up, the snow clung to her, white against the velvet black of her hair and his fingers twitched with the need to brush it away.

Maker, but he’d tried to ignore her since their one glorious night together, so that she would be safe from Meredith’s threats. But how did one ignore the woman who held your heart so fiercely that sometimes it hurt just to be near her and not touch her? She looked up at that moment and their eyes met; the soft smile she gave him before she glanced away made his head light.

He gritted his teeth and turned back towards Orsino and Mettin. “First Enchanter, do you have an explanation for this chaos?”

Orsino’s smile widened, but there was the hint of a sneer in the way his lips twitched. “Tell me, Knight Captain, what does it look like? Surely a little reprieve from a hot day is nothing that needs explaining?”

“Knight Captain, this is a clear breach of the allowances for magic use outside of approved classrooms,” Mettin snapped, lifting his voice to make sure that everyone heard him. Cullen saw more than one mage roll their eyes. “They must all be punished immediately and-”

“I’m sorry, Ser Mettin, I didn’t realise that the Knight Commander had given you a promotion that allowed you to dictate actions to your superiors,” Cullen said acidly. “Shall I organise a celebration in your honour?”

Mettin’s mouth snapped shut audibly, and his eyes burned with anger and humiliation. “That won’t be necessary, Knight Captain,” he forced out.

“Excellent news,” Cullen said coldly. He gestured to the youngest apprentices, including the ones who were lingering close to Bethany. “See the young ones back to their dormitories, if you will. And if I hear another word from you that isn’t ‘ _Yes, Knight Captain, ser_ ’ you will be on guard duty for the solitary cells for the next sennight.”

The knight hesitated for another long moment, the scowl on his face deepening to something akin to hatred, before he nodded jerkily and stormed towards the children. “Get up,” he snapped, tugging on the little ones lying near to Bethany. He saw her eyes darken with anger at the knight’s harsh tone, but she didn’t say anything, helping the girls to their feet and patting them reassuringly. Not that he was watching her closely at all… oh Maker, he couldn’t even convince himself.

“First Enchanter,” he began again, ignoring the cries of dismay that sounded behind him as Mettin and two other Templars began to round up all the apprentices. “Do you have an explanation for me as to why there is snow in the sixth floor corridor?”

“Knight Captain, it is nothing but harmless fun on a hot day. There’s nothing but-”

Something cold and wet smacked into the side of his head and made him stagger a step; behind him he heard one of the teenage boys howl, a mixture of triumph and pain and he turned to see Ser Agatha standing over the boy with her sword drawn. She was holding it backwards, the hilt obviously the primary weapon; the boy was clutching his head and groaning.

As Cullen wiped the snow away from his face, the courtyard around him erupted as everyone began yelling and trying to make themselves heard over the cacophony. He watched them all for a moment, mages facing off against Templars as the accusations and the insults grew louder and more outrageous.

 _What a fabulous way to mark my first stint as Commander._

To cut the argument short, Cullen sent a cleansing wave through the yard; the effect on the little snowstorm was immediate. With the magic ripped away, the clouds began to dissipate and the snow lost its form; puddles of mush began to form around the courtyard almost instantly. Two of the elder mages wobbled on their feet, and three of the apprentices cried out and fell to the ground. With the instigators of the mischief exposed, the standing Templars immediately pounced on them as a priority over the rest.

Orsino was stalking forward. “Knight Captain, this is merely jest and merriment! You cannot-”

“Ser Agatha,” he said firmly, speaking right over the top of the First Enchanter. “See that the trouble makers are escorted to solitary confinement. I will determine their punishments later.”

“And the children, ser?”

“They are included,” he said, ignoring the way Bethany went deadly still at his words. “They must learn that their actions have consequences, and that they cannot act without forethought.”

As the Templars moved to fulfil his commands, Cullen turned to Orsino. “Rein your mages in, First Enchanter,” he said coldly. “If there is any more trouble before Meredith returns, I will not act so compassionately.”

He left on those words, turning smartly on his heel and stalking back through the hallway towards his office. There was still a trickle of ice running down the back of his neck from where the snowball had hit him. He could still hear shouting going on behind him, and the sound of running footsteps on the floor above him as the Templars hunted down the last of the mischief makers.

Running his hands over his face in frustration, he pushed open his office door with more force than was necessary and slammed it shut again once inside. Now that he’d dispelled the magic, the remaining moisture in the air was quickly turning to humidity and his clothes were very quickly stuck to his skin; he grimaced at the new discomfort.

As he crossed the room to shut the windows and block out the tendrils of mist that were still lingering, the door burst open behind him. Taken by surprise, his hand automatically to the hilt of his sword before he spun to see who it was intruding upon him.

Bethany stormed into the room, finger stabbing accusingly into his face as she said angrily “You _cannot_ do this!”

He blinked at the fury in her, surprised at the angry passion in her petite frame. Then her words sunk in and he frowned. “I cannot _what_ , Bethany?” he snapped, pretending that he didn’t care when she flinched back slightly from his harsh tone. “I am the current commander of this fortress and I am well within my rights to exercise caution against mages using their powers without authorisation.”

“They are _children!_ There is _no need_ to act so forcefully against them!”

“And so I should coddle them? Allow them to grow up without boundaries and without a care for the rules placed upon them? Who are you to dictate what punishments I should and should not assign?”

Her eyes were dancing with fire. “They deserve to have a little _fun_. This place takes enough of their souls and innocence away as it is!”

She was yelling at him. Bethany, sweet timid _Bethany_ , was standing nose to nose with a man who could end her life with a single sword stroke and call it justified and be lauded for his excellent judgement… and she was _yelling_. It roused a furious anger in him as he snapped “Oh? And who are you to dictate the way this Circle Tower is run?”

“I am someone with a vested interest in those children and in ensuring that they grow up happy and healthy and without a pressing need to let demons loose on the nearest Templar!”

He scoffed at that. “Nothing you do will stop them from succumbing to the lure of demons and blood magic if they are so weak willed to begin with.”

She actually snarled. _Snarled_. “I am thrilled to discover your high opinion of the people whom I consider friends. How do you sleep at night, wondering if we’re all about to descend en masse on your office as howling creatures of the Void?”

“Mages cannot be given the benefit of the doubt, Bethany!” The words were out of his mouth before he realised to who it was he was actually speaking.

She reeled backwards, hurt flickering over her face before she locked it down; the fire in her eyes flared higher. “Well, at least I’m glad to know your true feelings on the matter. It must have been a great relief to you when you didn’t have to balance your hatred for mages with your attraction to me anymore.”

Something inside of him snapped at her accusation. “That’s not fair, Bethany, and you know it!” he snarled, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her forward.

“Why? I’m a mage, Cullen. How do you justify having a different opinion about me to the other mages? If I’d cast the spell, would you have drained my mana, ordered me thrown in solitary confinement?”

“Of course not,” he snapped instantly, then clamped his mouth shut angrily. _Dammit._

“So I _am_ different,” she pressed; her fingers were in the front of his jerkin and the fire in her eyes had not diminished in the slightest. “So it’s alright for everyone else, but I have to have a different set of rules? Is that how this works?”

“ _Maker take it_ , Bethany, why do you have to make this harder than it already is?” He tore away from her and stalked over to the window. He pulled it shut with angry, shaking movements, then leant heavily on the sill. “I can’t work myself out around you. You spin me about and make me question everything I know about myself. You _are_ different, and I can’t explain why, but I don’t look at you as a mage.”

“But I _am_ a mage, Cullen,” she said quietly, no less steely than before. “You cannot discount something that is so fundamental to my being.”

“Don’t you think I don’t know that?” He spun back to face her, angry that they had devolved to this point. This woman was soft and gentle and loving in his memories; this passionate, angry side to her was confusing and yet possibly even more intriguing than the woman he had fallen in love with. Would she passionately leap to his defence like this, were he ever the one in need? “I tell myself that every day. Every _hour_. You are everything forbidden to me and it’s all I can do to stop myself from-”

“What, and you think you’re the only one who struggles with that? Every night for the past month I’ve had to force myself not to sneak from my room and come to yours,” she said; the words tumbled out in a rush, as if she was worried she would run out of the courage needed to give them voice. “And I lie awake and I think about what we did together and I know you said you _can’t_ -” The word was agonised. “-But I can’t _not_.”

Her hands were twisted into his jerkin, fingers wrapped around the laces so fiercely that he wondered if he could have escaped even if he wanted to. How had they even drifted this close again? Hadn’t he been standing by the window? “Beth,” he rasped, eyes closed so that he didn’t have to look at the desperate hope in her face, “we _can’t_. We both know that. Meredith-”

“I don’t _care_ what Meredith thinks, and whether she knows or not,” she said fiercely. She jerked him forward and his eyes flew open in shock. She had dragged him nose to nose and the look in her eyes made him hungry for things he had no right in wanting. “She’s not here. Cullen, I _love_ you and you can’t ask me to pretend otherwise.”

“Bethany, she threatened your _life_ ,” he snapped, frustrated and confused and wanting nothing more than to drag her to his bedroom several feet away.

“I don’t care! How many times must I say that? I’d rather live what time I have knowing that I am loved, than cower and simper for the rest of my days without a chance to know how it feels to be in your arms again.”

His chest tightened. “Bethany, I would rather see you live a long and peaceful life than know that I am responsible for your death or Tranquility.”

Her eyes softened. “Cullen,” she began, one of her hands coming up to trace along his jaw.

He snatched at it, holding her fingers tightly in his as he brought them to his lips. “I couldn’t live with myself if I knew I’d brought that down upon you,” he said quietly, kissing her fingertips and watching as her eyes widened. He could feel her trembling.

“You say that,” she said breathily, “but your actions say something different.”

He glanced down at their entwined hands, at the fingers he had just kissed. “Beth, we-”

“Make love to me, Cullen,” she said quickly, stepping in close to him until their bodies were pressed together. “Please, let’s just forget about vows and threats for one afternoon. Be with me again.”

His pulse leapt skyward at her words and he groaned. “The Gallows is in an uproar from a prank gone wrong, you’ve just spent the last five minutes yelling at me, and you ask me _that?_ I recall you being a great deal more bashful about… well…”

The expected blush finally danced across her cheeks. “Admittedly, that was a good deal more brazen than I think I’d ever have the nerve to be again, but…” She fixed him with a look that made his blood heat instantly. “I fight for what I believe in, Cullen. And I believe in you. I believe in _us_. So that means that if I ever think you’re out of line, I’m going to tell you- because I love you and I want you to be the man I know you can be. And I can’t believe that you would abandon our chance to be together because of the threats of one woman.”

There was still a snowflake clinging to her hair, in her fringe just above her eyes. With a shaking hand he reached up to brush it away. It melted as his fingers touched it. “Bethany,” he whispered, the need thrumming through him making his voice hoarse, “we _can’t._ ”

Her eyes flashed. “Wrong answer,” she whispered back, and she kissed him. _Ferociously_.

He groaned and his arms were around her in an instant, unable to stop himself from returning her passion. This was not gentle and loving, as their first night together had been. This was desperate and needy and there was still a touch of anger burning between them; so hands grabbed perhaps a little too firmly, and teeth scraped and bit down. It became apparent very quickly that the fingers twisted into the front of his jerkin had been secretly busy, untying laces while they spoke without his notice. She was pushing it from his shoulders in no short order and he growled against her mouth, surprisingly aroused by her boldness.

He trailed nipping kisses along her jaw as he reached for the laces on her gown and she moaned; the sound was entirely too self-satisfied. “Changed your answer?”

He bit down firmly on the junction of her neck and her shoulder, drawing a gasp from her. “You confuse and infuriate me,” he murmured against her skin. “I have the utmost control in all aspects of my life, except where you are concerned.”

“I don’t mean to drive you to distraction,” she whispered, whimpering when he captured her mouth again with his. She was trembling fiercely, clinging to him as he began to peel the dress from her.

“Liar,” he rasped.

The bashful woman that he knew so well began to assert herself; she couldn’t quite meet his eye as the dress whispered to the floor, leaving her clad only in a silk slip, and her cheeks were coloured with the most adorable blush. “Your turn,” she said hesitantly, reaching for his shirt.

He caught her hands in his own. “Mm, not yet,” he said, mischief sparking within him at the timidness she was projecting.

The room was already warm, as the last of the winter magic in the air succumbed to the sun and the heat. The silk was clinging to her skin, so translucent in places that nothing was hidden from his roving gaze; she moaned and squirmed under his silent appraisal, trying again to reach for him. “ _Cullen,_ ” she whispered crossly.

The sound made him laugh gently, and before she could squeak a protest he snatched her up into his arms, lifting her easily. She threw her arms around his neck all the same, as if she was afraid of being dropped; he saw her lips twitch with a half concealed smirk as he shoved open the door to his small sleeping quarters with his shoulder.

“Changed your answer?” she teased; she very nearly shrieked in alarm when he dropped her on the bed, and before she could voice a complaint he covered her body with his.

There was still a hint of anger between them, and so things did not progress gently or slowly. This was a desperate moment, an opportunity snatched that could be easily stolen away from them again at any second. So they did not waste time- he was tearing her slip from her even as her shaking fingers tugged at his shirt and belt. The moment she was bared to him he began to tease; fingers, tongue and teeth dancing over her until she was at a fever pitch of need.

The last of his clothing followed quickly after, and then it was as if he stood in the very heart of an inferno. Her body wrapped around his so easily, legs entwining while hands stroked and grasped and- _dear Maker he was hardly going to last at this rate._

“Does anyone know you’re here?” he said roughly, sliding against her and groaning.

“No one,” she moaned, clinging desperately to him; she couldn’t seem to hold still, writhing and squirming and gasping beneath him. The friction of skin against skin, slick from the heat, was almost unbearable.

“Good,” he rasped; with one swift movement he ended the teasing and gave in to what they both desperately wanted.

Bethany cried out, her hips arching to meet his. “ _Oh Maker,_ ” she sobbed, her whole body wrapped around his as they began to move together

He felt the stutter of magic in the air around them, that faint crackle at the edge of his senses that pulled at the lyrium in his blood. Normally it was a distraction at best and unpleasant at worst, but this was _different_. Wherever Bethany’s fingers landed he felt the slight chill of the ice magic trying to escape from her as she fought for control; her frantic breaths were easily visible in the air, little puffs of frost that almost burned as they feathered against his skin. He should have been appalled at her lack of control, at the use of magic in so intimate a moment… at least, that’s what his training would have him feel. But his training also dictated that he should not be here in the first place, that being with her in any capacity was a sin and a crime.

As he felt the kiss of a snowflake against his bare shoulder, and felt the way her body alternatively burned with heat and frost, and saw the way the ice crystals formed in her hair despite the warmth in the room, horror at her magical talent was the furthest thing from his mind.

“Bethany,” he murmured, shivering as he kissed her and felt the chill of her lips, “what…?”

She was utterly without control, writhing and thrashing and crying out at each little movement. “T-too hard t-to fight it,” she stuttered. “C-can’t… oh, _Cullen_.”

Her hands were everywhere- grabbing at his back, his shoulders, digging through his hair, clinging around his neck. The desperate cries she was letting out were intoxicating, and he kissed her jaw, her chin, her neck, anywhere but her mouth so that he could hear her beautiful wails unhindered.

“ _Cullen_ ,” she sobbed, her whole body wild and fiery beneath him. The sweat glistened on her, and the sunshine spilling through the window turned her skin to molten gold. Yet she was wreathed in ice, the shimmering crystals dancing across her brow like some ethereal tiara. He had never seen anything more exquisite in his whole life.

“I love you,” he rasped, gritting his teeth as he fought to hold off the end until he pushed her there first. His whole body was coiling and tightening with heat, with the frantic, furious climax that he tried desperately to contain to make sure Bethany got her share of the pleasure.

He did not have to wait long. Maybe it was his words, maybe it was the hot slick of their bodies meeting in ecstasy, or maybe she just couldn’t fight her magic and her desire simultaneously but it only took a few more seconds before he felt it beginning within her. Her eyes gave her away- that stunned look of amazement that had been his undoing last time- and it was all the warning he had before she was arching against him, her body burning and clenching as she came and sobbed out his name as if it were a prayer.

Pleasure engulfed him, and it was all he could do not to buck wildly as he lost control of himself in a similar fashion to her. There was so much heat and frost and power shuddering through him, waves upon waves of mind numbing sensation; his vision dimmed momentarily, as if he was forgetting how to even use his eyes in that moment. Bethany was still writhing beneath him, her own end beginning to fade to that blissful afterglow, and he slumped against her in exhaustion.

The heat coiled around them, the dust motes coloured gold in the afternoon sun and their skin sodden with sweat and melted ice and the scent of their coupling. But the heat did not seem as intrusive as it had been for the past few days; it was just another part of this glorious moment, another sensory aspect to a beautiful memory.

Eventually, Bethany stirred and murmured something. He lifted his head from her breasts with great difficulty. “Mm?”

“You’re heavy,” she said drowsily, poking him in the ribs.

He rolled off of her, pulling her into his side until she was curled half over him. They lay there for some time, the heat and the contentment making them drowsy. Eventually reality began to seep back in, and he ran a hand over his face.

He’d been intimate with a mage. Twice, now. He couldn’t pretend that she was simply a foolish discrepancy on his otherwise immaculate service record. He was attracted to her, but more than that, he was quite certain that he loved her. And she’d already tripped him up, forcing him to admit that he would defend her and treat her differently to the other mages under his command.

“Bethany,” he said quietly, “we need to talk.”

She stretched languidly, the curve of her body against his making his blood heat markedly. “And now we come to the part of the day where your attempts at nobility fall horribly flat, yes?”

Her boldness had not diminished. “Bethany, this has to be a once off. A mistake. I won’t risk-”

“Meredith can’t be everywhere at once,” she said pointedly. She kissed him, gently pulling his lip between her own until it drew a groan from him. Her next words were barely above a whisper, breathed against his mouth. “Are you honestly saying that if you awoke in the night to find me beside you, you would send me away? That you wouldn’t take advantage of the dark, quiet hours of the night with me?”

 _Maker_ , but her words… there was far too much he wanted to do to her if he had all the hours of the night at his disposal. “Beth…” he said warningly, torn between his desire to do the right thing and his desire for her.

“You said you loved me,” she whispered, stroking his cheek with the back of her fingers. The look in her eyes as she gazed at him… he felt like the only man in the world at that moment. “Would you take those words back?”

“I…” No. No he could not. His answer must have been as clear as day, for she smiled gently.

“I love you, Cullen,” she said softly. “Even if we never find another time to be together, at least let me hold onto that. Let me know that I have your love in return, even if you feel it better for us never to act on that love.”

His heart broke a little at her gentle words. “Of course I love you, Bethany.”

Her smile widened, eyes sparkling with delight. “And did the world end from you saying that?”

He couldn’t help but smile in return. “Apparently not.”

“Good then,” she said, kissing him slowly. The moment grew, heat building between them as the kiss lingered and her hands grew a little firmer than they had been moments earlier. “And how long until someone comes looking for the fierce Knight Captain to put the Gallows back in order?”

He smiled against her mouth. “Only the Maker knows.”

“Then let’s not waste the time He’s given us, hmm?”


End file.
